


Golden Flax

by Depraved Necromancer (DragonaireAbsolvare)



Series: Flight of Death [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Extremely Horny Lucius, Fairy Tale Style, Ficlet, Genderswap, I binge-wrote most of this, Indefinite Ending, Lucius/Others, M/M, Medieval Fantasy, No beta we die like illiterates, Porn With Plot, Romance, Slash, Smut, did I mention smut?, no really- that's the only thing in his mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonaireAbsolvare/pseuds/Depraved%20Necromancer
Summary: Lucius Malfoy has a secret.
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback/Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Flight of Death [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810936
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	Golden Flax

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side-fic to Flight of Death, set in the same Fairytale AU. However, it can be read alone just as well.  
> Livewritten in [Chaotic_Smutty's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Chaotic_Smutty) Discord server.

Lucius Malfoy had a secret.

No, it was not about how he came by his wealth.

He _inherited_ it, thank you very much. In fact, the story of their wealth was a family secret that earned them their surname.

Lucius was undeniably, one of the most powerful men in the alliance of towns. He was silver-tongued enough to get most people falling over their feet to do his bidding, and wealthy enough to bribe off anyone who did not. (His ancestors having been part of an expedition that unearthed a mountain of gold somewhere in the South was lore.)

Or so, stories said.

Once upon a time, they also used to mention how Armand Malfoy cheated his fellow adventurers out of their gold; having whispered ill into their ears until they all fought and killed each other for the lion’s share. But well; there is nothing gold cannot obtain; which was why the storytellers no longer remembered that part.

No. That’s not true.

Gold could not do many things, and Lucius knew that.

For one, it could not buy love.

Granted, that very gold had brought him his lovely wife, Narcissa, who had borne him a fine heir. Yes, but it was his wealth and status that she loved, not _him._

He could also lavish his gold on the brothels in a faraway town, where beautiful, young lovers surrendered themselves to him and pretended to love him. They were masters at their act, and Lucius would have liked to believe in it.

Alas, while he adored their beauty and youth, he could not sate himself with their soft, pliant bodies.

The truth was, he _envied_ them.

He had spent so much of his life being placed on a pedestal, dominating everything and anything that he took part in. He relished the feeling of control, and the euphoria it gave him when he was the one holding all the cards, the puppet-strings to all the people in the room, but... there were a few rare moments when he wished it was the other way around.

This was the first of Lucius’ many secrets.

Lucius craved to be dominated.

He spent many nights dreaming of being ravaged by the occasional rogue who broke into the manor to plunder his wealth. Alas; the thieves would all be caught, and none of them were unnatural enough to think of striding into the master bedroom to ravish Lucius in front of his wife...

Often, in the streets, Lucius found his eyes straying to young men at work. His gaze lingered on firm arses, taut and shapely abdomens, broad shoulders and strong arms. Occasionally, if he was lucky, he’d find some of the farmers’ young hands topless in the summer heat.

It was so very tempting, and he found himself idly musing on being roughly taken in the Weasleys’ barn by any of their elder children. Then he would shake his head, mildly revolted at the thought of any association with the Weasley paupers.

...Barns were good for a rough tumble. But not enough for the wildest of Lucius’ illicit fantasies. Pinned to a tree after being attacked in the forest, however...

It was also how he had found about his... unnaturalness... in the first place.

~

Lucius had been a young man, barely into adulthood, game-hunting in Lord Smith’s grounds when he glimpsed randy stable-hands frolicking in the river. Lucius hid himself, for some strange reason he could not fathom, and watched them bathe. Water flowed down the contours of their torso, throwing their fine, sun-kissed musculature into high-relief.

Lucius had watched, a light flush on his cheeks, mouth dry and loins impossibly hard. Only the sound of the hunting horn had roused him, and he reluctantly left.

That night, Lucius dreamed of being sandwiched between two of those bronzed, godly forms- Firenze and Magorian, if he remembered right. They’d held him, trapped him in their steely embrace, and taken their turns rutting into his spread legs.

He hadn't made his first forays into brothels in the town of Knockturn yet, and his only knowledge of coupling had been limited to what little the boys talked.

Lucius had always been talented in hiding himself away and eavesdropping.

As an only child, it was a source of great amusement for him to often hide in his father's study and listen to his father poisoning his colleagues' minds, or lurk behind the drapes of his mother's tea room and listen to the ladies gossip. It had also been an excellent source of blackmail material, as well as helping him stay on guard.

Yes, he knew it was rather rude, but what others never knew would not hurt them, now, would it?

And so it was, that as young Lucius grew up and tired himself of listening to the same kind of conversations, he found a more interesting target for practising his espionage skills.

Teenage boys- farm-hands and the sons of nearby craftsmen- were full of raunchy tales of their conquests at Knockturn. Lucius listened, face reddening and body searing with heat, until he made up his mind to pay the brothel a visit.

He distracted his father with excuses of meeting up with the Lestranges, his fellow gentry heirs, and steered his horse towards the town of Knockturn. It was far- a good hour or two of riding; but the Lestrange men had winked and sworn it would be worth it.

Knockturn had been a dingy, dark district- full of the misfits that could not wander elsewhere. Lucius followed the Lestranges into the Salacious Succubus, and paid handsomely for a room and an hour of pleasure.

The young thing that walked into his room was all supple legs and young flesh, eager and willing- but Lucius embarrassed himself by being unable to perform as well as he'd hoped. In the end, it had been all for naught- merely physical stimulation that had him coming- and Lucius left the Salacious Succubus, passing a note to inform the Lestrange brothers that he had left early.

The young heir fastened his hood and decided to make better use of his time exploring the alley. He passed by shops selling all sorts of knick-knacks, stopping occasionally to stare morbidly at wares like preserved eyeballs (Now Available in Purple and Pink!) or buttered fingers.

Before he knew it, a hand had closed around his mouth, knife at his throat.

"Well, aren't ya pretty?" A voice sneered.

Lucius froze.

The blade of the knife was cold against his skin, and stubble scratched his cheek.

His instinct had been to scream, or haughtily demand his assailant to unhand him- the Heir of Abraxas Malfoy-

-but he thought better of it.

To his shame, his body was warming, his cheeks flushing with arousal and a soft sound escaped from his lips.

The man heard it, and was surprised in turn. Unconsciously, he slackened his hold on Lucius, but the young man made no move to escape. Then the assailant licked his lips audibly.

"Oh, my. You're a strange one alrigh'."

Lucius turned to face his assailant.

His first impression was that the man was poor.

Therefore, it amused him that he did not mind.

It was a man not much older than him- perhaps twenty- but he looked haggard and wild, with amber eyes that shone in the night and thick, long hair that ended in a poorly trimmed sideburn.

"If you're willing, we could-" Lucius began, with courage that he did not know he had.

The man grinned. "Oh, yeah, I'm willing."

He pushed Lucius into an alleyway that stank of cheap liquor and the perfume of whores.

"I'm not a-" The young blond began defensively.

The man laughed darkly. "Ya think I didn't know that? You're a stuck up, pampered brat that ain't never seen the likes of Knockturn."

For a moment, Lucius was afraid. But the man did not seem to make a move. Then his hands ran across Lucius' face, thumbing at his lower lip. The young man shuddered with the touch.

"What- is your name?" Lucius bit out.

"That necessary?"

Lucius huffed. "I'd prefer to know who I'm about to fornicate with."

"Greyback." The man laughed again, raking his gaze up and down his body. "Tha's what ev'ryone calls me." Lucius mouthed the name, pressing his lips to Greyback's lips, tasting the cheap rum and roll of tobacco. "M' a hunter."

"I can see that." Lucius ran his palms over Greyback's shoulders, chest and arms, taking in every rise and fall, every angle and curve.

He committed it to memory, his first _real_ partner, and it was exactly like he'd fantasised. Exquisitely hard figure- the physique of a man who lived his life doing hard labour- and had nothing to reap from such labour, Lucius corrected, feeling the dip of the man's concave belly.

He must have had a hard life.

Nevertheless, more for him to relish.

Lucius let Greyback undress his doublet and shirt, breath coming up short when the man began to lave on his neck.

Greyback nipped on his neck and chest, while pushing him onto a wall with a forceful grip. Lucius wondered if it was going to bruise and leave lovely fingerprints all over his hips to reminisce over later. He gasped when Greyback bit on his nipple-

Oh, dear. The women in the Salacious Succubus hadn't done that-

-they should have, if this was how sensitive he could be. Greyback purred and whistled between his teeth.

"Ain't ya a lively one? Honest, I haven't had someone as _eager_ as you in ages."

"What else can you do?" Lucius asked in between short gasps, and Greyback began to ground against his groins in reply. Lucius keened, never having been this aroused; not even when peeking at two servants tumbling in the barn.

Greyback brought him back from his thoughts with another bruising kiss, stubble grazing over his chin and teeth clacking in their haste. His hands curled roughly around the young Heir's blond locks. "You're going to suck me." Growling, he forced Lucius onto his knees.

Lucius darted his gaze upwards frantically. "I haven't- ever done that before."

The hunter's eyes gentled. "S'okay, pet. I'll teach ya."

Lucius frantically undid Greyback's buttons one-by-one, and inhaled sharply when the man's cock jumped out.

He'd never seen one before- another man's, that is- and while their sizes weren't that different, the hunter's stood upright in an angry red flush.

"Put your mouth to it. Don't bite." Greyback said, pushing the blond's head towards his hips.

Lucius sighed in trepidation, his tongue making the first of hesitant licks over the blunt head. He grasped it in his hands, fingers curling around the patch of dark curls at its base, and slid the tip of the length into his mouth.

He marvelled at the weight in his mouth- the salty-bitter taste of semen collecting at the head and the earthy scent of his sweat.

True to his word, Greyback instructed him on how to move- swirling his tongue around the head, laving on the length from tip to base and hollowing his cheeks to create a nice suction into which the hunter thrust lazily. Lucius reached for the man’s balls, cupping them and rolling them in his palm, stroking as he sucked.

He imagined what a wanton picture he must have made, cheeks full and jaw loose with cock, red-faced with desire and shame. Greyback’s fingers tightened on his hair, pushing his head up and down, until it was not enough, and two hands stilled him when the man began to thrust fiercely into his mouth instead.

Lucius choked on the length hitting the back of his throat.

“Breathe with your nose, lovely.” Greyback groaned, thumb stroking the blond’s cheekbones gently, in contrast to the cock ramming eagerly into his mouth. Lucius tried to comply, restraining his urge to gag. His fingers dug into the man’s legs to keep himself steady. The hunter made a few more jerky thrusts before his body went taut, releasing its load into Lucius’ throat.

Lucius pulled himself off and coughed, spitting into the alley. “You could have warned me!” He hissed, to which Greyback merely grinned with the air of a sated beast. Lucius got to his feet, dusting his clothes and trying to ignore his own straining erection.

“Leaving so soon?”

“It is late. I’m expected back home.” He began to hastily button up his shirt when Greyback pinned him to the wall again.

“Can’t let you leave without getting you off, pet.”

“You don’t need to. I’m perfectly capable of taking-”

Greyback cut him off with another brusque kiss, slipping one hand down Lucius’ breeches, loosening the sash belted around his waist with the other. “Shut up, m’lord.”

Lucius flushed at the title, but went limp in the hunter’s arms when a rough, calloused hand wrapped around his shaft. The man thumbed at his slit, smearing the pre-ejaculate over the tip and making the young blond quiver.

He started up a slow, steady stroke, only stopping to tease his partner by running a long, sharp nail along the underside of the length. His lips worked in tandem with his hands, nipping and sucking along the slender column of Lucius’s throat. Greyback’s cock had twitched back to life, and was busy grinding against Lucius’ arse.

"Damn, Greyback!" Lucius swore, tears forming at the corner of his eyes when Greyback brought him to the edge and let go of his prick.

The hunter chuckled darkly into his ears. "Beg me, pretty."

Some measure of haughtiness fought against the want in the young Heir's mind, before he gave in. "Please- don't stop."

The hand returned, busying away on his dripping cock, but he could feel the man's lips on his throat curve into a satisfied grin. The blond bucked his hips, thrusting into the man’s hands, and finally ejaculating with a keening cry.

Greyback brought his seed-coated palm to Lucius’ mouth, and bade him to suck his fingers clean, all the while pounding away against the latter’s clothed arse. Lucius lapped at the digits in delight, feeling Greyback increase his pace until the man howled in ecstasy as he came.

He wondered briefly if his breeches had been stained by his partner’s fluids, but as he kissed the hunter goodbye and rode back to Malfoy Manor, he could not find himself to care.

In the following days, Lucius wandered back to Knockturn more often than was proper, searching for other establishments that could cater to his needs. Fortunately, there existed a covert establishment in the deepest, least frequented recesses of Knockturn that dealt in male whores. Of course, Lucius kept his loose correspondence with Greyback, meeting up whenever the hunter was in town. And on occasion, he would take up the Lestrange brothers' invitation to their 'trips’, desperate to get used to intimacy with women for when he was to be married.

And if his father noticed these undesirable ventures, he made no mention of it.

Lucius had been a prim and proper heir, careful enough to not drag the Malfoy name through the mud. And when it was appropriate for him to marry, he obliged to a profitable union with the Blacks, although it meant putting his... excursions… on hold.

After ensuring that Narcissa, his new wife, had borne him an heir to continue the bloodline, Lucius returned to his pursuits.

However, Narcissa was not the sort of woman who would risk her status for an adulterous husband with unnatural proclivities. Lucius had often been put in an uncomfortable position skirting around remarks on his absence or 'late-night strolls'.

One such occasion was at the Haven Eros, the aforementioned covert establishment, when he had yet again abandoned the Lestranges at the Succubus.

In horror, Lucius stepped back from the young man he had run into. It was not a young man at all, but a cleverly disguised Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus' newly-wed wife and his own _sister-in-law._

Lucius blanched, frozen to the spot. Fortunately, the young woman seemed to be as afflicted as he was.

"Well, it's delightful to see you here, brother-in-law." The woman grinned wickedly.

Lucius greeted her back as calmly as he could.

"I daresay my darling sister would like to know what you’re up to in your spare time, Lucy.”

Lucius bit his lip and pulled Bellatrix into the brothel, waving at the establishment keeper to give them some privacy. He was a frequent-enough customer that the man complied.

"I should like to know the same about you, woman." He hissed through his teeth. "Are you not married? Have you no dignity?"

Bellatrix huffed. "You men are all hypocrites. _Beloved Rodolphus_ is out carousing with his brother. Speaking of which, I understood you were to be with them?" Lucius shifted uneasily. "This is a _male_ brothel, dear brother-in-law."

Her cunning gaze troubled him deeply- this was actual blackmail material, his unnaturalness- but then, he could probably slander her back by seeding doubt on her chastity and virtue. That would ruin her name, as well as the Black honour and leave her destitute-

Bellatrix was following the same line of thought, and they came to the silent agreement to pretend nothing was going on.

This was how Lucius started up a casual acquaintance with Bellatrix (whose nom-de-guerre happened to be Beaumont.) 'Beaumont' visited him often, with tales of drunken brawls at the taverns (including a rather hilarious one where she had sparred against her husband and his brother over petty insults), of the brothels' new acquisitions, and sometimes, even terrible lore of the Forbidden Forest.

"They say _witches_ live in the Dark Forest." 'Beaumont' said, swirling his shot of whiskey and downing it in one go. Lucius shuddered at the word. "That they can give you all sorts of fantastic things, from cursed shrunken heads to love-baiting charms and potions."

"I see." The topic of witches and their wicked ways made Lucius terribly uncomfortable.

Bellatrix paid no mind, pouring herself another shot from Lucius' finest bottle. "I met a dirty hag in Knockturn who'd bought herself some kind of poison- to murder her neighbours, apparently." She laughed uncharitably, choking on the liquor. "Says the stories all true- but her 'poison' smelled like old sherry to me. I'd like to see if the neighbours die or not."

"Witches aren't real." Lucius bit out, looking pasty.

"Why not?" Challenged Bellatrix. "If there are sorcerers like the Great Saviour, why can't there be witches?"

"The Wizard Dumbledore and sorcerers like him are all stuff of legends, Beaumont! How do you explain why magic _doesn't_ exist?"

Bellatrix scowled. "Suit yourself, _Lucy."_ Being petty, she seized the bottle and gulped down half its contents before staggering out of Lucius' study. He heard her yell a 'Bye, luv!' to Narcissa, and Lucius braced for the next confrontation with his wife.

Narcissa did not approve of his associations with 'Beaumont', finding 'him' a cavalier, lascivious drunk whose courtesy to gentlewomen like her was terribly lacking.

Heh. The irony.

~

The second of Lucius Malfoy's terrible secrets was that _he was a witch._

Not the kind to make cursed dolls and magic charms, of course. That was the kind of powerful magic only great wizards like the Saviour, Albus Dumbledore, ever wielded.

No, his was a humble ability to concoct whatever he wished.

It was his greatest terror and shame- the fact that he was a creature of sorcery.

The disgust and fear that came with being such a thing was too horrible for him to think of. Society would shun him, chase him off into the Dark Forest to live with the strange and primitive creatures of his ilk.

As a child, Lucius had surprised himself by grinding a few leaves and mix their liquids to a pot of ink to create a paste that had turned him invisible. He had panicked after not seeing a reflection in the mirror, and he had sworn to keep this terrible skill to himself.

No one knew.

When Lucius inherited his father's title and the wealth that came with it, he found a book that was accessed only by the Head of the Malfoy family. It was a record book- an entry for every human that had been born a Malfoy. He'd only opened it to start an entry for Draco,

-but had frozen when he saw one of their oldest ancestors.

Serpentinius Malfoy had been a witch. His mother, to be precise, had been a witch, and passed down the trait to her son. After Serpentinius, there had been three other Malfoy witches, who had all died protecting their dirty secret. The last of them had been Lucius' five-times-great Aunt, who had been hidden away by the Malfoy Patriarch of that time, and there hadn't been magic in the blood since.

Until Lucius.

He wondered if Draco had inherited it, but realised he would never know.

After all, he had not told his father, Abraxas, either.

Lucius easily made his peace with being the only witch he'd ever know of.

Lucius was passing by the Weasleys' barn (very slowly, although he would never admit it) when he overheard Charlie Weasley chatting with his friends.

His attention was roughly pulled off Weasley's fine, thick thighs when the boy uttered the word 'Witch'.

Lucius' blood ran cold, and his first thought was that he had been outed. Then he listened in on their conversation and realised it was about the witches in the Forbidden Forest. He waited for them to finish and return to their work, and Lucius sped away to the Town Hall.

Later, in the safety of his bedchambers, he mused on what they had said.

Those boys regularly went into the Forbidden Forest.  
To meet witches.

Witches who could satisfy their lewdest, wildest dreams.

Lucius felt very hot under his skin, thinking about the possibilities.

He toyed with his collar, heading to his full-sized bathroom mirror, and unclasped his dressing robes. It slipped down his torso, sliding neatly down his bare legs to pool at his feet.

Lucius raked his gaze over his bare body, wondering if there was anything to him that could satisfy those hungry young men. He was getting in age, and it showed in his skin. There were creases beginning to form at the corner of his eyes. Most importantly, they wanted _witches._

He found his feet leading him to the kitchens. Dobby, one of the kitchen help, was putting away leftovers and cleaning the counters. Lucius waved him off to bed, under a muttered excuse of making himself a midnight snack.

Dobby's round eyes went as wide as tennis-balls, but he silently disappeared down to the servants' chambers. Lucius stood in front of an empty pot, attempting witchcraft for the first time in many decades.

He collected all the backyard herbs and knick-knacks that _felt_ right, and began to mash them with a pestle. A vial of pig's blood and dead flies were tossed into the pot, along with vinegar and set to simmer. He added the ground leaves first, a distinctly herbal smell wafting out of the pot covering the pungent stench of boiling blood.

It was repulsive, the rational part of Lucius' mind told him, but his intrinsic witchcraft delighted in the smells, with the knowledge that it was progressing splendidly.

The strange knick-knacks included the tooth of a buck that he'd plucked off the stuffed game in his study, the decaying claw of a dead crow from the backyard and a copperpiece coin. Lucius grimaced when the ladle melted into the concoction, but he knew it was alright. The excess metal would only add to the potion.

Finally, it was done- a shimmering mauve solution, transparent and deceptively light (considering all that had gone into making it) and all Lucius needed to do was bottle it and keep it in the dark for a whole week.

And then, he waited. A week later, he would know what exactly he had concocted.

Exactly a week later, Lucius retrieved the bottle from his wardrobe- wrapped around a pair of woolly hoses, to be precise, and uncorked it. The colour of the liquid had remained the same, but the smell had become exceedingly more noxious.

Lucius headed to the bathroom, slipped off his clothes and swallowed a mouthful.

He had missed it, the euphoria of witchcraft. A weight that had been long forgotten in his bones suddenly lifted, and Lucius felt more... whole.

This was him. He was a witch. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

The shift in his physical form was much slower. His skin tightened, swelling with the rosy glow of youth. His hair flowed thicker and lustrous than ever, and Lucius observed his shapely limbs with a joy that had never been rivalled.

He was young, he was beautiful.

All that remained was to cloak himself and head off to the Forbidden Forest.

Lucius had never been to the forest, but it was exactly as the tales made it out to be. Dark, damp and downright terrifying. A shudder wracked through his body at the thought of living here. From what he'd overheard from Charlie Weasley, the witches lived in the deepest part of the forest where beasts roamed freely and even the bravest of hunters dared not enter.

Lucius left his horse at the end of the trail and set foot towards. Perchance, he stumbled across a woman draped in nothing but shawls, nettles crowning her tangled hair and grimy jewels covered her long fingers.

"Speak up, traveller!" The woman hissed. There was a dazed glaze to her eyes that Lucius would have called a drunken stupor, had he not realised she was a real witch. The words caught in his throat when the woman gasped dramatically. "You're one of us. My poor child, were you taken from us at birth?"

Lucius leapt back when the woman attacked him with outstretched arms, before giving into the embrace. He revised his thoughts on her daze when he caught a whiff of thick ale and sherry off her, and realised the woman was completely drunk out of her wits.

He let the witch guide him to a bonfire, where many more witches sat huddled around the fire.

"A brother has been returned to us!" The woman cried at the top of her lungs, and the rest of the witches turned to stare at him.

Lucius, who had abandoned his aristocratic fineries in favour of commoners' clothing, felt completely out of place in the bizarre crowd that greeted him. The witches' garbs varied from woven grass or hay and blood-dripping furs and hides to old muslin and sometimes, nothing but jewellery- but what was common to them all was that they were eternally young and beautiful. Lord Malfoy felt a pang of envy, which he quickly masked with polite greetings.

The witches were better company than he had imagined, and after a night of revelry and feasting and a ritual to worship all nature around them, Lucius fell asleep with his company; a feeling of home that hitherto he had not known he was missing.

Lucius awoke to beauty.

The dawn's rose light had changed the forest's view to his eyes, and all he could feel was peace- the rustle of trees and the chirp of early songbirds. The earth was damp; it had rained sometime while they were all asleep, and Lucius could taste the dew on his tongue. The smell of wet soil and grass tingled his nose, and he heard hooves beat in the distance.

A fawn grazed in the clearing, relishing the gentle pets Sybill lavished on it.

Sybill, who was the witch that had led him to the feast, looked when he sat up. "You're up early."

Lucius smiled, the guilelessness and ease of that action surprising him. "Indeed."

"I suppose you'll be leaving now." Sybill was no longer wasted, and she fixed her clear gaze on him.

He shrugged. "We all have our duties."

Sybill's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Yes, and mine is to drown myself in liquor whene'er my visions are not required."

The woman was blunt and caustic when not drunk, Lucius noted. He had been told, last night, that each witch had their own gift. Sybill's gift was vision far beyond time. Her most frequent visitors were powerful men seeking assurances of their status.

"You will have visitors too, Gyldenfeaxa." Sybill smiled reassuringly, before reaching for a bottle of cheap ale and downing it in one go. Thereon, she was a lost cause, so Lucius left the clearing for his horse and rode back to Malfoy Manor.

By the time Lucius reached the safety of his room, the potion had worn off, and Lucius was himself again. It was some kind of age-reducing draught, he realised, which also enhanced the beauty of his youth.

Would he make it again? Would he go back to the forest, to live amongst his ilk?

He set those dangerous thoughts aside and dressed for the morning. He had to meet with Sir Greengrass and Lord Black to revise the land tax. Crops had taken a hit after a particularly wet season, and the village poor were steps away from mobbing the Town Hall with torches and pitchforks.

However, it was barely a week before Lucius found himself at the witches' bonfire, revelling and merrymaking into the night. The late-night excursions became habit again, and he knelt in front of the witch Mother Rowena, the oldest of them all, renowned for the gift of spells, and begged her to create a female illusion over him.

Beside her, the witch Salazar snorted. "He just wants to bed the young boys." Mother Rowena silenced him with a dark look. Lucius cowered shamefacedly.

"You need feel no guilt in indulging your deepest desires, Gyldenfeaxa. We all revel in the union of flesh- it has always been nature's way." She bound a spell into one of Salazar's curse-dolls and hung it on Lucius' waistband. "This glamour can hide and reveal your true form at will."

Lucius took it gratefully, and returned to work on his hut. Each witch had a little hut in a nook of the forest, where they received their visitors. Lucius took care to furnish his with a large bed of sweet-smelling hay and dried lavenders, since he had not forgotten his original reason for seeking the witches out.

His hut was made of cob mud, with a roof of woven grass, a craft he had painstakingly learnt for this purpose, and colourful broken glass he'd picked up at the village to let in light through the walls and ceiling. It took him a month of hard labour, but it bore fruit when Lucius received his first visitor.

Sirius Black stepped in through the curtain of beads and stones at the entrance. Lucius froze, terribly afraid that Heir Black would recognise him through Mother Rowena's glamours and drag him off to the Town Hall, to display Lucius Malfoy for what he truly was- a witch.

Black, however, did nothing of the sort. He removed his shoes and sat cross-legged on Lucius' bare straw floor, and raked his eyes over the witch.

"Speak, traveller." Lucius said. He failed to hide his flush that ran over his cheeks and neck, being dressed only in hundreds of gilded ornaments and jewellery. A hip-chain with a curtain of tiny jewels strung together covered his modesty, and the blond witch exulted in his naked beauty.

The form the Witch Mother had made for him merely curved his figure into that of a woman's, so Lucius had to veil his face with some of Salazar's muslin.

Black failed to speak for a very long time. "Your beauty exceeds Sibyl's tales, Gyldenfeaxa." He breathed.

Lucius glowed with pride. "What do you ask of me?" He asked, running his bejewelled fingers through sheaves of golden hair.

"I seek a potion, witch, that can murder my wicked mother." Black replied darkly. Lucius nodded and bade him to come at the break of first moonlight the day after, to receive his poison, and told him his price.

Black's eyes dilated in lust at the latter. A few days later, Lucius Malfoy attended the funeral service of Walburga Black.

And he also discovered that he felt nothing for gentlemen of his status. It was really the young, good-looking barn boys that aroused him.

~

"C'mon, mate. You have to try it out at least once." Ron Weasley said through his mouthful of chicken. Upon seeing Harry's reluctance, he continued. "I didn't wanna have anything to do with them witches either, at first. The twins pushed me into it."

Speak of the devil, the Weasley twins appeared out of nowhere, carrying a cloth package. George slapped Ron's hands away. "You don't want that, it's corned beef."

Meanwhile, Fred turned his attention on Harry.

"So, dear brother-"

"-in all but blood." George said.

"In all but blood." Fred agreed. "You're of age now, and it's a shame we couldn't offer you this on your birthday-"

"Oh, the scandal!" George cried. "Darling Esmé was rather spectacular, I say. You missed so much, dear Harrikins!"

Harry interrupted them before they could let loose their mouths. Fred had a dangerous glint in his eyes that betrayed exactly what he was about to utter. "Is this about the witches?" Harry hissed the word, looking around frantically for zealots and witch-hunters who would try to stake them for associating with those heathens.

"You don't have a say, beloved brother."

"We're taking you tonight-"

"-whether you like it or not." Fred completed.

"Let's see if you protest as much after tonight." George winked at Ron, who flushed.

Harry looked at his best friend, scandalised. "You're abandoning me to these two?"

Ron shrugged. "Sorry, mate. I've got this dinner with Mum and the Grangers."

Harry sighed, and wondered if his own Mum was going to murder him for seeking out witches to fornicate with. George patted him sympathetically.

That evening, the Weasley twins dragged Harry out of the Potter home, mumbling a not-so-believable excuse to Lily Potter about camping in the Weasley barn. They took him to the Forbidden Forest, which loomed over them, as menacing as ever, and pushed him in with the advice "If you keep wandering in a fixed direction, you're bound to meet a witch sometime!"

Harry groaned loudly and headed in. The trail disappeared after a while, and Harry realised he was lost.

Lucius Malfoy was returning from Sybill's hut when he glimpsed two flaming red heads. On impulse, he darted behind a thick oak tree and waited for the blasted Weasley twins to pass by.

It was not a matter of dislike. No, while he appreciated a rough tumble with gorgeous lads like the Weasleys, they had both taken him _together,_ all night long, like some insatiable lust demons. His arse was extremely sore afterwards, and it had been excruciating to sit still at the Council of Elders for hours while Elder Finch-Fletchley ranted on and on about some insignificant family feud.

No, Lucius was perfectly fine with not meeting the devil twins for a good long time again. And he could not again afford running midway to Salazar and altering his body temporarily to provide for two orifices. The man would not let him live it down for weeks.

And so, once the twins were confirmed to be heading to witch Esmé, Lucius headed to his hut in peace.

Soon after Lucius had returned to his hut, there came a ring from outside. The little silver bells he had hung at the doorway chimed.

It was Harry, who had been wandering nervously for hours. He saw a hut, the windows and doors glowing softly in the light of a fireplace. He rushed to the hut and rang the little doorbells. A voice granted him entry, and Harry stepped into the mud hut, brushing aside the curtain of bead-strings.

A woman sat on a bed of straw and lavender, covered in jewellery as golden as her lustrous hair. The gentle glow of the fireplace swathed the room in an amber glow. Harry stared dumbly until the golden witch broke the silence.

"Speak, traveller."

Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "You're a witch."

The witch raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Well spotted."

"Er- I'm Harry. Harry Potter." The youth scratched his head in embarrassment and held out a hand, which Lucius stared at with mild contempt.

Ah. A Potter. It made sense. The infamous squire's son had caused quite an uproar, after all; eloping with a low-born peasant woman and settling in Ottery St. Catchpole as a schoolmaster. Such heathen manners- could have only come from that woman.

"I am Gyldenfeaxa." Lucius replied snidely, bowing his heavily decorated head as gracefully as he could. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Harry fumbled with his words again- "Uh, the twins- the Weasleys, that is, told me I could- er..." He flushed, remembering the exact description Fred had given him of a night with a witch.

Indignant, Lucius' mouth fell open. He knew _exactly_ what the boy was here for. How dare he! The audacity of that boy, to treat him like some cheap Knockturn whore-!

But that train of thought looped around Lucius' brain, arousing him terribly. The boy was here for no other reason than to bed him...

A fine, good-looking country boy...

Lucius extended his hand. "Tell me, boy. Is this your first time with a witch?" When the boy nodded, flushing scarlet, Lucius continued. "Then remember this- we are witches, not prostitutes. We are _paid_ for our craft in whatever _we_ demand. Not all of us desire company in bed."

His thoughts flashed to Sybill, who almost always asked for extra strong liquor as payment, and Rowena, who sought for priceless artefacts instead.

"That being said, I _very much_ want you in my bed, dear...?" Lucius' lips curved into a predatory grin as he loomed over the kneeling boy.

"Harry. Just call me Harry."

Harry's face was heated when presented with the lovely bareness of the witch. Gyldenfeaxe pulled him onto her straw bed. 'Her' lips were soft and ripe, and Harry kissed them greedily, taking his time to explore the supple body under the all jewellery.

Lucius sighed happily.

Village boys were such beasts.

His arms reached to knead the boy's fine arse, tracing down his thighs and up his back, while Harry peppered kisses on his throat and collarbone. Harry's hands ran up and down his sides, squeezing his non-existent bosom and rounded hips.

The witch marvelled at the power of Mother Rowena's glamour. It could be experienced through all five senses, while leaving Lucius' physical body intact. Harry trailed little kisses all the way down to his navel, and Lucius pulled roughly on the boy's untidy mop of hair, raising his head to cup his chin. "What a coy thing you are, dear Harry."

The boy protested at being treated like some demure maiden that Lucius had to woo. The witch teased and teased, relishing in the bursts of impatient annoyance he drew out of Harry, before letting the boy take over.

By then, soft-hearted Harry Potter was fired up enough to the witch's liking.

Glydenfeaxa then presented the boy with his warm wetness, and let him have his first taste.

Over time, Lucius found Harry at his doorstep increasingly often, and their meetings turned from wild, frenzied lovemaking into more conversational and sensual encounters. The witch found Harry more well-educated (James Potter had not neglected his son's lessons) than the average countryside labourer. Harry confessed he wanted to become a schoolmaster like his Da someday, and had a little tutoring session every other evening for the local kids. To make ends meet, he helped out at the Weasleys' small farm.

In return, Lucius revealed bits and pieces of his true persona- one that was both witch and nobleman. He spoke of how he loved his witchcraft- making strange potions out of even stranger ingredients, how he had been fascinated by alchemy in his youth, how he was still... afraid and ashamed of being shunned as a witch.

Harry was as kind-hearted as he was guileless and open. He told Lucius that if he could not accept himself, no one would. Harry said that it was alright to be who he wanted to be, as long as it did not hurt anyone.

Then, in a terribly bold and uncharacteristic move, Lucius told Harry he could shapeshift into a male body.

He sat and waited for a reply, nervously fumbling with a pearl bead. When he looked up, there was only intrigue in Harry's eyes- not disgust. Lucius willed away the glamour, shifting into his true form.

The amazement in the boy's face did wonders for his nerves- and ever since, Harry requested for Gyldenfeaxa's male form almost _every single time._ Lucius clung on to the faint thread of hope that Harry just might possibly be of the same- tastes- as him.

The possibility of Harry being more than the witch Gyldenfeaxa's bed-partner; a lover, a friend, a confidante- hung thickly in all their encounters. Harry returned Lucius' heated gazes with passion, he confessed, 'the likes of which he had never felt with his fiancée.'

Outside of the forest, in the town, Lucius cultivated his relationship with Harry as Lord Malfoy. When Draco was of an appropriate age, he sent the child to Harry's tutoring class, which led the other lords and gentry to do the same. Harry's little establishment flourished into a small school, and Lucius often invited him to private dinners in the pretext of learning about Draco's progress.

Lord Malfoy soon became more than a casual acquaintance, into someone Harry considered a friend, (albeit Harry would never introduce Lucius to the Weasleys- they were like cats and dogs) and hope flared in his chest that one day, he could tell Harry that his beloved Golden Witch was his dear friend.

He hoped that he would have someone to share all his terrible secrets with.

~

\------------------------

FINIS

\------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Gyldenfeaxa: Golden Flax
> 
> This entire fic was built on a single sentence from Flight of Death: "He did not know what was happening to him, why his body was responding in ways it had not with his sweet fiancée, or even during his secret trysts with the beautiful witches of the Forbidden Forest..."
> 
> The Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter ship discord server is now officially open. Feel free to join and expand the fandom. We need content, people! [Lucius/Harry Discord Server link](https://discord.gg/Kc7fYHwUKR)


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